


Silver Eyes Tell No Lies

by percyval



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: AU, Eggsy is Craving That Hart, M/M, Many Vampire References, Supernatural Creatures, Supernatural Elements, Supernatural Spy Agency, based on a prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percyval/pseuds/percyval
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural creatures are not allowed to interact with humans. It's been that way since the two existed. But it's rare that those rules are ever followed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this based off of a prompt/idea thing by @solarrift (you are lovely and this idea was too fucking good to pass up).

Blood stains are commonplace in lower-income areas. Especially along alley walls and in abandoned buildings.

It's a game of Russian Roulette if you decide to go out late at night when the moon is at her highest and the supernatural beasts are out to play. It doesn't matter the laws they are supposed to obey - they will go out, kill and feast upon humans, and then return to their hovels before the sun has poked over the smallest buildings.

Normally, however, I'm keen enough to avoid them. I've seen enough from my mates and other people all that I have to do to keep those creatures at bay. A few tools that universally work on most of them, and will at least distract others long enough for you to run like hell in the opposite direction.

It's always been this way - as long as there have been humans there have been monsters.

Some of these monsters are kind, I've never seen it but I wouldn't assume all of them are horrific and deadly. That's just a given with anything that can breathe.

However, tonight there's something in the air that I can't recognize, but it makes me feel afraid.

The breeze is crisply cold, skirting its way down the back of my shirt and chilling me to my core. March weather, my arse.

It gets dreadfully silent in the alley, and I see one long, tapering red streak across the brick expanse. Blood. Fresh blood. I can still distinguish the metallic smell.

This isn't safe.

I want to turn myself around, and go back down the illuminated path - they put out security cameras to keep track of all the supernatural attacks that take place at night. No one would do anything to stop these incidents, because this is just "survival of the fittest."

Meaning that numerous deaths were all completely useless.

Studies and tests showed that most supernatural beings needed to feed off of humans to sustain themselves, but most creatures don't need humans to survive comfortably. A lot of them kill for sport, at least the smart ones do. Very rich, very sophisticated beings will arrange hunting parties, almost making it a game of how many helpless humans they can harm in one night. They leave the bleeding corpses for poorer, desperate beings to feed off of, until they go cold, or go dry.

Vampires are the most common supernatural creature, right up there with werewolves and warlocks. There's varieties of each, but those are the three most common types. So luckily, I'm going to become a basic supernatural being tonight!

The wet blood should be evidence that there's been an attack here, but I avoid it. I just want to get home safe, get back to Daisy and my mum and maybe hope one of Dean's rogue supernatural goons killed him already.

It's uncomfortable how he deals with them. They're his henchmen, and yet even with the poor treatment, they don't just go out and tear his throat to shreds. Instead, they keep him around because then they have a perfect leeway into the human world. And it's fucked up how it's not acknowledged by any police officials or nobody else, for that matter.

So we have to fend for ourselves, because that's just what "survival of the fittest" taught us to do.

Feet patter down the asphalt, footsteps quite obviously trying to match mine. They sound heavy, and harsh breathing starts becoming audible as the creature comes closer.

They sell weapons kits, and I always carry one in a knapsack. So I whip out a bottle of holy water, given it does fend off most creatures, given their "ungodly" status.

And I think I'm so smooth, I think I'm just gonna throw the water in this creature's face, and run off while the skin boils and blisters. Because I'm the suave action guy, and I've been fighting off supernatural beings in alleyways since I was about 13.

But today my aim is just slightly off.

The water catches the side of his face, and, unfortunately, that just pisses him off more.

A stout man with dark, beady eyes and a red face stares up at me. I don't remember his name, but he _does_ hang around with Dean and the like. So I've already made a huge mistake.

He glowers, and snarls, his fangs bursting through his plaster-cast faux-human teeth, and the fake ones fall to the ground. He's a particularly foul vampire, not one of the very sleek, sexy kinds that are popular romantic leads. His mouth is lined with uncoordinated, off-centre teeth that almost ooze with saliva.

I'm quite fucked now.

His jaw his blistering and bubbling, turning redder and more disgusting. I barely want to watch as he lunges towards me, hands outstretching and teeth sharpening as they expand to their full length.

The fangs slash into my throat, and leave three ugly, jagged marks along the right side. Only the skin was broken, but this wound does need to be fixed.

I kick him into the wall, and whip out a wimpy stake. With the spirit of Buffy Summers coursing through my veins, I try to run it through his heart. However, the blood loss starts to get to my head, and I find that it's hard to aim when you're drifting in and out.

So it lands in his chest, in his neck, in his belly, everywhere that I can manage to find with the little hunk of sharpened wood. His body gets quite mushy and bloody, and the carnage is probably going to be mistakenly placed in with the blood stain painted up on the brick wall. And no one will know of my sloppy handiwork, which probably is a good thing. I could probably be charged for murdering a supernatural being on "his" territory.

Once I'm certain he's dead, by mashing his heart up until it's indistinguishable from the other smooshed organs, I go off. Lights are on in buildings near the one I killed the vamp in, I must have made a metric fuck-tonne of noise. But no one's calling for cops to invade the area, they're all just trying to find where the excitement is.

I look like a total moron, smirking when I see little old ladies gasping for air when the residents investigate the body themselves. One man starts yelling out for whichever son of a bitch killed this guy, but it should be nearly impossible to tell.

All that ugly bone-cracking that's going to haunt my dreams and blood splatters covering my body for no one to appreciate how I turned his into a Bloody Mary.

My first priority is to go home now, but even that likely won't work. My mum will see the blood and Dean will send me out when he discovers I killed his goon.

Oh, and the whole bitten by a vampire thing probably won't sit well with them, either. But that's much less important, at least in the moment.

There's no way the petrol station will let me use their loo, but they're seedy enough that it's worth a shot.

I step my way past the sliding doors, and I'm submerged in simulated sunlight. Bright fluorescent lights serve to keep night creatures away, but they do slip in whenever they can.

With how long I've been bleeding out my neck wound, I'm surprised I haven't attracted anymore to me. But now I'm relatively safe.

The cashier huffs, his eyes practically dead and just staring right at my bite.

"Can I use your loo, bruv? I got hurt fighting off a vampire, but I won't hurt you or steal nothing," I try to reason with him, but he barely even blinks in response.

He just hands me a key attached to a giant wooden block, and he doesn't direct me to where they are. Leaving me to search the perimeter of the building and then come back in, seeing there was a sign pointing in their direction.

I unlock the door, and search my bag for the first aid kit. It shouldn't be so hard to find, but maybe I'd forgotten to restock it and left it at home. All I need right now is a pile of cotton swabs and iodine to fix it up. But I at least have a roll of bandages.

No soap in the dispenser. Great.

I get one of the bandages wet, clean off the dry blood, and then tear a few to fit over the wound. Surgical tape kept the pile of bandages on my neck, just long enough to find real medical help.

Maybe not doctors, though. They'd kill me in some attempt to keep me from wrecking havoc on the hospital.

I throw all my supplies back into my bag, and start heading out. But where will I go?

That part I barely thought about. Mostly because I never thought I'd be bit. I'm not a great planner, I have to admit.

There's going to a shelter, but I'd rather not attempt that. They tend to kill creatures when they become too violent or they've stayed too long. And I'd be killed within a week there, so that isn't exactly idyllic for me. And I've run out of options.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @solarift for the response! I hope I'm not too badly damaging your prompt! <3

The moment I step foot in the pub, everything feels slightly off-kilter, even just wrong. It's almost like a sort of force hangs in the air that isn't allowing me comfort. And that would make sense, I guess. I'm not really welcomed here.

But humans don't enter where they're not allowed. Most of us get that.

Except for thrill-seekers and people who'd prefer to die or be turned, we don't exactly go where we aren't welcome when it comes to supernatural beings. We've been like that since the mid-1990's, when I was only six.

I've only heard stories, but apparently there is a group of supernatural creatures who want to keep humans and monsters away from each other to their best abilities. They're called Kingsman, I've never heard much else, but they fought alongside humans in that battle, putting aside all differences just to stop rogues from wrecking the human world. My mum said that my dad volunteered to join their training. He'd gotten bit by some creature, God knows what, and he joined them in the battle. He fought until he couldn't anymore, and when the sun rose, he crumpled into dust, along with a few other rogues. But he was successful, disregarding his death.

Mum never let me go into the shady part of town afterwards. She feared I'd be turned, and become some ugly, bony, hunched gargoyle feeding off of helpless people in dark alleys. Obviously, she didn't plan for me to be so keen on self-defense.

I turn myself around in the pub, and I fear as if I'm being watched by some other foul creature. But I sit down in a both and look around, wary of my bloody bandage glob gaining too much attention. And I can still feel the set of eyes on me, even if I cannot place them.

It takes me much frantic glancing before I realize dark brown eyes are locked onto my neck.

His eyes are almost carmel-brown, which really isn't commonly a vampire's eye color, but hey, I don't know much about all the different possibilities of vampiric eye hues. But he's obviously a vampire, and one that's taken quite a blatant interest in me.

But I don't do vampire seduction, by any means. Not even if he's total daddy-material.

Okay, maybe I don't know _that_  yet, but he is quite well-dressed, and he's almost got his lips curled into a smirk.

I'm getting carried away. This is some bloodthirsty vampire guy and he'll likely kill me if I do give into his techniques.

I sip at the drink, and try to ignore him. Maybe he'll eventually give up if I stop looking at him, too. Even if I do happen to look back over, he's probably found someone else to gawk at.

But, I'm still his target when my eyes wander back over to him. He's even starting to get up, and walk to me.

_Fuck, I'm going to die tonight. All because a sexy vampire guy is going to drain me outside._

And _right_ after I killed another one of them.

I put my guard up, I broaden my shoulders and keep my bag within hand's reach. The vampire sits down across from me, and he stares into me. Guard broken.

"I've never seen many humans here, did you think it clever to come?" He asks, setting down his drink. Deep brown alcohol. He's got to be ages old if he can process human food and drinks.

"I got bit. I'm almost one of you, so I thought I'd get my first visit out of the way. Make it less awkward the next time."

He nods, and takes a long swig off of his drink.

"It's quite nice to see someone so enthusiastic about turning." The vampire smiles at the corner of his mouth. "What's that - bandages over your bite?"

I cover it with my hand, and sigh.

"The guy who did it tore up my neck. It looks ugly."

"Did you just get bitten tonight? It's still soaking red." His eyes do look a little fierce when he brings up the blood still seeping. He adjusts his glasses, and breathes out, hard.

I touch at it with my fingertips, and sure enough there's blood drizzling from the bite.

"Fucking hell, I'm bleeding out. Maybe I should have gone to the hospital." My eyes begin to disorient, very slightly.

"We have a medical wing where I work. I'm sure no one would have a problem with a fledgling." He thinks to himself. I start to stand up, but sure enough, something else has to go wrong.

Three guys, one muscular with sharp, furry ears and bright green eyes is staring down his nose at me, while two goons stand at both his sides. They're smaller, but they still do look quite vicious.

"Fuck, little human thought he could come on in here and go all Carmilla on some fucking Nancy-vamp," he spits at me.

I cross my arms, and scowl.

"What the fuck kinda insult is that, bruv?"

"Shut up, you fucking geezer-pleaser," he roars, and looks like he's going to get down on all fours and wolf-out at any minute.

"A bit better," I smirk, acting all clever as I'm certain I am.

The vampire comes up behind me, standing broad and tall. His hands comes down over my shoulder, and he leans down to whisper in my ear.

"I think you should back down. You don't want to start a fight with these gentlemen."

I look up at him, and then curse at myself.

"Shit, could you get my bag? It has all my stuff in it."

The vampire goes back to the booth, but returns with empty hands.

"Someone took it. We don't allow those crude weapons." He looks a little concerned. "We should just go."

I shake my head, and look back up at the tall wolfman. He's even taller than the vampire, but that might just be his ears. He stares me down, and I try my best to fight it back. I'm not gonna let this bastard win.

"Who wants me to kill the human?!" He screams to his buddies, and pretty much the whole pub.

A few cheer and woop in response, others turn away from whatever they were doing, and then return to their activities. But, the wolfman does not back down.

He lunges forward, and I just then notice the jagged brass knuckles sitting on his fist. His hair starts to go coarser and thicker, he's gonna change at any moment if he gets any more pissed.

I throw my fist at him, and he blocks it. Fuck.

His goons run off, and the vampire is about to step in. I push him away, and my fist connects with his jaw. He falls back only a moment, grabbing onto the now loose, slightly dislocated bone, and stares burning hot flames into me. The wolfman comes forward, his nails have extended to sharp, almost-deadly claws. But I have confidance I'll at least wound him to where he can't continue fighting.

I see him grab for a beer bottle, and I smash some guys half-full mug over his head before he can break it. The wolfman falls down onto the ground, snarling and picking out glass shards from his skin. The vampire grabs my arm, and rushes me out of there before we can be attacked again.

\- -

We've reached the outskirts of town when we finally stop.

"You did quite well there. How did you inebriate him so quickly?" He looks down at me, his eyes are still hungry.

I shrug, and smirk up at him. "I've been doing it most of my life."

The vampire has an umbrella hanging on his arm, and I almost burst out cackling.

He glances over at me.

"What's so funny?"

"A vampire with an umbrella. It makes sense, but it's still hilarious."

He grins at the corner of his mouth. Haven't reached full-mouth with him yet. Bummer.

I look up at him, and watch his face while we walk. He gives little grimaces when we walk under simulated sunrays. He ocassionally checks his watch, then he checks his teeth in the reflection.

"So, do you feed off of people?"

He furrows his brow, before shaking his head.

"No, no, my association doesn't allow any supernatural beings to feed off of humans in any way. Not even if they consent to it. We've set out to keep the supernatural and human worlds apart, there's been too much bad between the both of us that we don't see integrating as doing any good."

"Well, it wouldn't be easy, but you could still try it," I argue back.

The vampire sighs.

"I understand. But we've tried it and it does no good."

I gesture between us.

"Yeah, but bruv, we're both together and you aren't trying to eat me or nothing. I bet that those other guys will start to give into it if you adjust them into it. We humans have been doing this since forever, and now pretty much everyone is equal to each other. Why can't you guys just suck it up and get used to being around us?"

He doesn't seem to enjoy my idea.

"Would you rather thousands of humans die while they 'adjust?'" His tone is harsh.

I groan.

"Are you always this unbearable? I don't even know your name, and already I wish I never met you."

He smirks (It's pretty subdued but I can tell his facial expression, still). That gets me a full-mouth reaction.

"I try, I suppose. I'm Harry Hart." He holds out his hand. He's got amazing control over any of his vampiric urges, especially considering my bleeding.

"Eggsy Unwin. So you're in an 'association?'"

"Yes. Kingsman."

Fuck, I didn't think this guy was high up there in supernatural/human affairs!

"Hell, I've heard of you guys! Fucking cool, all that supernatural agent shit. So you're like Lestat, but Jack Bauer too, yeah?"

"I wouldn't say Lestat, especially considering my lack of youth."

"How long ago were you turned?"

"Will every word out of your mouth be a question? I was turned back around 1900, only a year before the Secret Service was established. When I was about 55. So I'm not an eternally youthful god with long golden locks and perfect in every way. Not quite Lestat. I'd say more Nosferatu."

I grin.

"Still fucking cool, mate. So you've been around how long?"

"I'm 170, Eggsy."

"Ace."

170 and he's pretty fucking hot, I might add. We continue walking, and I can't even imagine what time it is. I thought we'd just walk on and on until we stepped our feet into the bottom of the ocean. But we do eventually stop at a tailor's.

"This is where you work?"

"It's a division of Kingsman, but I do spend most of my time here, so you could say that. Come on in, Merlin's waiting for us."


	3. Chapter 3

I don't know what I expected a supernatural spy agency to look like.

A fireplace burns in the corner of the room, and a stony-faced gargoyle (pun intended) sits at the counter.

"Arthur is in the dining room," he says, and Harry the vampire leads me upstairs.

I guess I'll get medical attention once the meeting is over.

A taller man stands in the hallway, bald and levitating a clipboard above his head to keep him entertained.

"Galahad, is this the boy that I saw on your specs?" He leans into Harry, who nods in response. The bald man nods back in approval.

"Oh, this is Merlin, and my codename is Galahad. We use Arthurian codenames. So I've been Galahad for years now. Our head man is Arthur, he's been around since the 1600's, and most of us would be glad to be rid of him. But that's not too respectful, is it?"

I smirk. He walks me in, and Merlin follows us, clipboard floating back into his grip.

I can't quite tell what Merlin is, we rarely see magical types of creatures in human parts of the world, except for those shoddy street musicians. But they're only half as powerful as this Merlin guy.

"Galahad, Merlin, no longer waiting until I let you in?" He, probably Arthur, looks like a smug, old bastard. No wonder the Kingsman guys hate him - I'm starting to fucking disdain him already.

He smirks while they both sit down. I notice other creatures sitting at the table. On Arthur's own left side, two men with iridescent skin are chatting together, getting quite close, in fact.

I stand behind Harry, looking at the other Knights of the Rectangular Table. At least make it an oval if you're going to be Knights.

"Gentlemen, glasses on."

They all put on somewhat similar glasses, and turn to a portrait on the wall. I can't see what it is, so I try to guess what they're seeing.

"Galahad, take your little friend out into the hall, please? We'll determine what to do with him, later."

Fuck, they _are_ going to kill me. And this thought probably shouldn't be so scary with how many times I've worried myself with it tonight.

I sit down in the hall outside the "dining room," clicking my heels and thinking less-morbid thoughts. I want to go find a mirror and change out my bandages. My fingers are nearly drenched in blood when I look down at them.

A pretty pinkish-skinned girl trudges by, her ponytail swaying as she approaches the door.

"Goddamn gargoyle," she murmurs, moving to turn the knob, before she notices me.

"Does he freak you out, too?" I ask, and Harry's accusation is seeming pretty valid right now.

The girl cocks her mid-brown eyebrows, and grins a little.

"Gargoyles and pixies rarely get along," she remarks, before entering the room.

Fuck, she was my only means of a tour. Now I have to find the bathroom on my own. After a dizzy spell, I wander mostly down a long hallway I was facing earlier. I fall against one of the narrow walls as I approach a door labeled "Restroom."

Pretty proper of them.

My reflection shows how pale, save for red drips of blood across my cheeks, I've turned since getting bitten. Either blood loss, or turning into a vampire.

I throw some toilet paper over it, and hold it until I can get medical care. By the time I've returned, everyone is leaving the dining room. I pick Harry out, and stand by him.

He leads me to one of the iridescent faerie men, dark-haired and a little stoic-faced.

"He got bitten by a vampire, not one of us. Eggsy, show him." He pushes me forward, and I remove the thin paper from my neck.

The man inspects it, his eyes taking account of every inch of my wound. He places his fingers where he can make out fang indents.

"This wasn't a full-fledged vampire. You never have that many fangs, six, tops. I'll fix it up, Galahad. I just need to know what kind of vampire it was."

"Percival, I don't know that. I've never seen any of us with more than four fangs on one jaw. It's concerning, but maybe you should ask Eggsy. He probably knows at least what it looked like." He looks over at me, and I notice his eye color. A rich blood red, he glamoured his eyes at the pub. Why would he do that? Maybe he didn't glamour them, though - maybe I'm hallucinating or that's what they've always looked like.

"Alright, I'll fix him up," he glances up at Harry, then back over to me. "Come with me."


End file.
